The House with Green Tiles, Architectural Jewel of Havana
HAVANA TIMES – Fifth Avenue in Miramar, Havana, unfurls its carpet of trees and automobiles like someone taking a deep breath before entering the stage. Upon arrival, when the street still carries the echo of the tunnel coming from El Vedado, a mansion appears whose roofs seem to have borrowed from the sea a deep, sharp green visible from afar. Its silhouette mixes turrets, dormer windows, and porches that invite you to stop, look, and inquire. They call it, quite simply, the House of the Green Tiles. And when you look at it calmly, you realize that it is not only the intensity of its roof’s color that sets it apart, but the accumulation of stories that have settled there—some true, others yearning to become legend.
The house was built in 1925–1926 at the request of Alberto (Coco) de Armas, a well-known figure in Havana circles at the time for having served as butler in the Presidential Palace during the government of Mario García Menocal. The project was conceived by Jorge Luis Echarte Mazorra, a skilled architect and engineer who, according to local memory, turned an empty Miramar lot into a distinguished mansion in just ten months. The speed of the work, and its result, speak of an era of ostentation and the new desires for modernity in the capital.
At first glance, the house combines eclectic features: sloping, green-tiled roofs, dormer windows that break the eave line, a conical tower capping one of the corners, and deep galleries that protect from the tropical sun. Technically, it belongs to the group of early-20th-century Miramar residences that blend neocolonial details with elements from United States and European domestic architecture adapted to the Caribbean climate: ventilated porches, large windows, and a floor plan that prioritizes cross-ventilation. Its presence on the corner and the ornamental treatment of its woodwork and moldings make it an urban landmark: not just an isolated object, but a point of reference within the fabric of the city.
Old chronicles and descriptions mention interiors with marble or fine-wood floors, ceilings with detailed moldings, and large rooms designed for receptions. The De Armas family and later tenants maintained a stately taste that combined the functional with the decorative: hanging lamps, boiseries, and furnishings that imported the gesture of the European salon without abandoning tropical freshness. Today, although some of the original furnishings no longer exist, the interior design remains a historical canvas: its spaces preserve the proportions and pathways that speak of the social life of another era.
Over time, the house accumulated owners and stories. Among them stands the figure of Luisa Catalina Rodriguez Faxas, a character who, according to public memory, lived in the house decades later, and whose private life fueled rumors and tales. Some versions say that after a certain misfortune, she withdrew from society, that she lost friends, and that the house remained like a giant guarding her memories. The legends feed on the image of the house itself: its size, its green roofs, its gardens—all invite one to imagine secrets.
In the first decade of the 21st century, the House of the Green Tiles began a new public chapter: in July 2010 it opened as a Center for the Promotion of Modern and Contemporary Architecture, Urbanism, and Interior Design. This change of function transformed its relationship with the city: it ceased to be only a residence and became a space for study, exhibitions, and the promotion of design—a way of giving new use and prominence to a heritage building. Since then, it has appeared in guides, reports, and tours, both for its aesthetic value and its ability to bridge history with contemporary design practices.
Artistically, the house operates on two levels: as an architectural work—because of the craftsmanship of its roofs, its volumetric composition, and its ornamentation—and as an urban symbol. In Miramar, a neighborhood of mansions and embassies, the green tiles have become a visual emblem recognized by many as they pass by. In terms of heritage, its maintenance and active use help preserve not only the physical structure but also the collective narrative surrounding it: the memory of a city that changes yet needs anchor points to tell its own story.
Walking past the House of the Green Tiles is, for the curious Havana resident, an invitation to imagine the conversations that once took place there: receptions with salon music, official visits, quiet pauses; and also to reflect on how a house becomes both witness and protagonist. Keeping it alive—as a museum, cultural center, or cared-for residence—is not only a matter of architectural preservation: it is the safeguarding of a place where history, aesthetics, and legend meet and continue speaking, tile by tile, to those who walk along Fifth Avenue.